SAGA AND THE SANDWICH
by Ballyuk
Summary: After a fruitless morning of trying to solve their murder case, homicide detectives Saga and Martin go for a lunch break. Set during the first few episodes of season 1 of the acclaimed Swedish/Danish crime drama The Bridge (Bron/Broen).


Author' Notes: I do not own the characters. I have tried to replicate the little moments of levity that can be found amid the general bleakness of a show that I think is far better than the variants it spawned. In my opinion, Saga Norén is one of the best female TV characters of the past decade.

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 **SAGA AND THE SANDWICH.**

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With a sigh, Martin Rohde sat against the edge of the desk rubbing his eyes wearily. The distance from Copenhagen to Malmö could be covered in little under an hour crossing the Øresund Bridge, but the early starts and late finishes were beginning to take their toll on him. The life of a homicide detective usually meant long unsociable hours mining through some of the worst excesses of human behaviour, and being away from his family for long spells was nothing new. No, for the Danish detective, in this instance the weariness was caused by the current lack of progress being made in solving the gruesome murders, combined with the complexities of joint Danish and Swedish jurisdiction over this particular case - that of the so-called 'Truth Terrorist'.

The hair was thinning, the beard was greying, the paunch around his middle was getting larger, and motoring excitement generally consisted of little more than a shopping trip in a sensible and spacious family car. All these tell-tale signs of aging would be obvious to anyone but what he'd noticed increasingly frequently was the little groan he uttered every time he stood up or sat down.

It was all the more telling as he observed one Saga Norén, his Swedish counterpart and partner on this case. She was stood in the middle of the room, stock still, her face a mask of concentration as she continued to stare at the brainstorming board on the wall in front of them. Saga was nothing if not actively engaged in all her assignments, tackling her job with both zeal and an emotional detachment. That second part could so easily make her infuriating to deal with but was also a good reason why she was so uniquely effective as a detective.

Working with Saga was interesting to say the least. Martin was sure that her distant personality and at-times eccentric behaviour placed her somewhere on the autism spectrum. It would be unfair to suggest she had a disorder given that she was perfectly capable of functioning in her job, she had an apartment and she drove a Porsche 911. It was hardly unusual in Scandinavian society for people to persist with single-dom rather than settling down to family life. The countries may have had a reputation abroad for being fairly easy going and liberal but that perception masked a harsh reality where extremism and discontent chipped away at the veneer of daily life.

Whether by accident or design, Saga seemed to eschew any signs of femininity. She tended to favour leather jackets and jeans, never bothered with make-up and didn't put in any real effort with her hair apart from brushing it in the morning. Not that she could ever be confused for a guy given her physical profile, but even her physical mannerisms lacked an obvious feminine quality. Yet there was an energy about her that forced him to realise he wasn't a young man anymore. Once upon a time, he was similarly driven.

An even wearier Hans Pettersson, the Police Commissioner in Malmö, finally moved away from the window he'd been leaning against, in desperate need of some fresh air and a chance to think about something else. As much as he wanted regular progress reports from his officers and detectives, he was also being pestered for updates by the Mayor and senior officials at the Ministry of Justice. Glancing at the clock on the far wall, he noted that it had just gone midday. An appropriate time for everybody to take a break.

"Maybe we should take a break, Martin. Pick this up a little later. A full stomach and some fresh air might shed some new light on things eh?"

Martin nodded. He'd had much the same idea for the past 45 minutes. The sound of the two men shuffling as they made their way out of the room finally broke Saga's concentration. Her search for obvious patterns and links in the chain had thus far proved fruitless. Taking a final look at the board as she exited the room, she stepped over to her desk and grabbed her jacket from her chair.

"Saga, why don't we grab a sandwich from the deli down the road? Rafael says they do a great meatball sub." Martin added a note of hopefulness to his suggestion. He wanted to talk to Saga outside of work in a bid to understand her and find out what made her tick. He realised he knew very little about her personally.

"OK." Her reply was typically brief.

The pair headed for the elevator and out of the building. It really was only a five minute walk to the deli in question so there was no need to take the car. Saga as usual did not bother to engage in conversation and in any case, Martin felt she might open up a little once they were at the deli. Her cellphone did go off once during the short journey, stopping any attempt at conversation anyway. She answered it with her usual response. Martin laughed inwardly, thinking she ought to put an automated message that would sound the same response whenever she accepted a call.

"Saga Norén, Länskrim, Malmö." (Saga Norén, Malmö County Police Department.)

The exchange was brief so all he could hear were clipped yes and no replies. When she ended the call, she noticed Martin was looking at her for explanation or enlightenment. Surely it had to be something to do with the case. She explained that it was merely the forensics lab informing her that they'd found no DNA evidence at the latest crime scene other than that of the murder victim.

Martin nodded. By now they were outside the deli, so he opened the door and Saga stepped inside. Given the time, the brunch crowd had disappeared and the lunch crowd had yet to arrive. Martin thought Rafael wasn't kidding when he'd called it a treasure trove of delicious eats.

Walking up to the counter and eyeing the array of open sandwiches, cakes, pastries, breads, cheeses and sundry other options, Martin looked at the girl behind the counter and ordered one of the deli's famed meatball subs with a nice mustard sauce, pickled cucumbers with dill, and a nice sharp thinly sliced Hushållsost cheese. It was about as local an option as he could envisage, and a far cry from the ubiquitous burgers and fries he'd been filling up on recently. He ordered a black coffee to go with it. Asking Saga what she wanted, she agreed to the same choice so with that, Martin paid for their lunch.

There was a small row of tables to the side of the deli so Martin moved to sit down. Noticing that Saga wasn't following behind him, he turned to face her, spotting her heading for the door.

"Saga, where are you going?"

She turned back, the expression on her face implying that it should have been obvious. "I've got my sandwich, so I'm heading back to work."

With that, Saga took a bite of her sandwich and headed out of the deli. Martin could only look on, dumbfounded. She was such an idiosyncratic personality, intriguing and yet with the capacity to infuriate Martin at the same time. So focussed on the job was she that it seemed as though she was quite prepared to forego any form of normal social interaction - even a simple lunch break. He wondered what she did to unwind.

Sighing resignedly and allowing himself a small grin and a shake of the head, Martin stood back up and grabbed his food, asking the girl at the counter for a paper bag in which to wrap it up. Such was the life of a homicide detective.

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 **FIN.**


End file.
